Past Dues
by Unlaced
Summary: Sometimes, galactic war seems a lot more preferable than dealing with personal demons. Earth just happens to hold the bones of ghosts she left years ago, and they've finally caught up. Shepard/Garrus. Post-ME3. Substance abuse warning.
1. From Fire to Ashes

**Chapter One: From Fire to Ashes**

"_You're gonna go to hell one day, little girl," was one of her father's favorite lines to ever say to her, starting at the tender age of five when they discovered she had tapped into a reserve of biotic potential. This was revealed when she was able to biotically lift a bottle of alcohol and throw it across the room, destroying the last trace of liquid courage in the household. Not the smartest move.  
_

_When she was six, she found out what the word "hypocrite" meant. She thought about altering the dictionary one day, taking a picture of her parents and taping their faces right by the word. Hypocrite. Hypocrites were synonymous to her parents._

_Why, do you ask?_

_Walking in on them snorting a line of red sand was a common occurrence. Sometimes they'd snort so hard and so much that their noses would bleed and they wouldn't even notice. They would tell her every day she was going to hell for being able to lift things, but they had gotten high and utterly blitzed just so they could do the same thing._

_They were so lost in their own world that sometimes they forgot she even existed. She'd purposely hide from them, or watch them quietly from her window as they lifted rocks and chairs in the air and hurled them across the yard. Furniture would shatter into pieces, the rocks would damage someone else's property and then she could hear them cackle like hyenas._

_One day, they didn't ignore her. One day, they thought to punish her for being able to use biotics by using the temporary abilities the drug had gifted them. Hypocrites._

_That's the day she ran away, and never looked back. She was only ten._

* * *

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

The life signs of technology were becoming awfully annoying with their repetitiveness, even if they were spaced apart. But he'd been here for hour after hour, day after day without fail, and aside from the soft sound of her breathing, it was the _only_ other sound that rung through the med bay. As time passed by, Garrus Vakarian grew unsettlingly anxious, despite the reassurance of Dr. Chakwas. The woman knew what she was doing. The woman would never, ever let something happen to her – not after doing her damned best to keep her alive.

But the phrase "medically induced coma" gave him a bad taste in his mouth. With the way the Alliance rescue team had found her, it was a surprise that she already _wasn't_ in one. Garrus wasn't there when they had discovered her body; they had crashed on a lush, jungle planet on their escape from the wave that had rendered synthetic life empty. The warship had taken some damage, but nothing that wasn't repairable. With everything that happened, Shepard had been presumed dead and they had given him the plaque with her name on it to put over Anderson's.

He had approached the memorial wall. And he started to near her name on it, before he realized that his damn woman was a fighter, born and raised. If she was dead, then he wanted a body to prove it. Only then would he join her name with the rest.

Ever since the Normandy came back to Earth soil, they had kept her there. With her ship. With her crew. Right under the care of Dr. Chakwas. Some Cerberus scientists had to be called – something about the wave knocking out the function of her cybernetics – and if she was going to recover well and right, she _needed_ them. The days where they all worked on her had been tense. No one had been allowed to see her. Not even Garrus.

He could have gone to the Battery Room. Same deck, and seconds away from where she was. Calibrations would have been a wonderful way to keep him busy, especially with the damage the crash had caused to the weapon system. But he stayed right outside those doors, arms crossed, and eyes fixed on particularly nothing as waited.

There wasn't a day where he _didn't_ get updates on her condition.

But they had succeeded. With cybernetics repaired, her path to a full recovery would be smoother. Even with that said, Chakwas still insisted on an induced coma to let her body fix itself naturally. Fluids and nutrients were pumped into her system. Her vitals were checked every few hours. A lot of weight was lost while she unconscious – ribs were poking out, her arms were nothing but sharp bones, cheeks shallow and eyes sunken.

It was still her, no matter what condition she was in.

With the Mass Effect relays currently under repairs, the majority of alien fleets that had entered the Sol system to aid Earth had stayed. Others were stubborn and opted taking the long home back to their planets for repairs. Even those who stayed remained here with a sense of hesitance and anxiety, but they were more than helpful in assisting Earth.

After all, everyone had owed it to her.

The mechanical sound of doors opening filled his ears and when he glanced up, Tali'Zorah entered with an arrangement of flowers. She had been especially skilled at scouring the remains of London, finding plant life that bloomed stubbornly even through the crevices of ruin. Every week she would come with a new bouquet and replace the withering plants she brought the week before.

"Have you eaten anything?" She situated each flower carefully, making sure they were as aesthetically pleasing as possible. It gave the med bay a sense of home instead of being a quiet room of bright whiteness and stainless steel. "I can bring you something."

"Thank you," he said quietly, eyes never leaving the human bound to the bed by plastic tubes. Her light, caramel skin was etched in closing cuts, healing burns, bandaged gashes, and bruises in every shade of blue. If someone hadn't seen her before, they would have said she looked terrible. But he remembered the way her body looked when he fought to catch a glimpse, and Garrus insisted that she looked a _lot_ better. "How's everyone?"

"Liara's got her systems back up and running. You know how she can't survive without her information. Extranet is almost completely up, and Vega's helping the krogans remove the remainder of rubble. Grunt wanted me to come up and check on her, though. I've never seen him so…worried." A slight giggle escaped, echoed by the mask over her face. "It's cute. You know what Liara thinks, right?"

One of his brow plates rose curiously, clearly answering that as a 'no.'

"You know when he tore into the fridge, started throwing food, grumbling about how the Normandy didn't have premium meat on board? She thinks he was actually _grieving._ Something about Commander Shepard being the closest thing to a maternal figure he's had. Wrex actually agreed. Must be hard for Grunt, though, with all the krogans getting ready to become parents."

Garrus listened. He wasn't the most sociable person lately – although understandably so. Watching her run off on her own into that beam had left him with a sense of trauma he couldn't shake off. As a soldier, he understood the decisions made. He understood that going with her would only slow her down. He understood that persuading her to come with him would have been a mistake, because they wouldn't get another chance like this to destroy the Reapers. She _had_ to go, because if there was anyone in this goddamn galaxy who could win this war…

It was her.

Her story caused his mandibles to flare into a small smile. An actual chuckle rumbled through his throat. "Makes sense. I always did think he followed her around like a lost child sometimes."

Tali laughed, but their sounds of mirth were quickly quieted down. Both of them kept their eyes on her, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest.

"And Joker?"

Tali made an uncomfortable sound. "He's…managing. The best he can."

Garrus nodded solemnly.

Whatever had happened in there, with Shepard and the process of destroying the Reapers – it had come at another price. Any synthetic life was also rendered empty. EDI had simply…stopped working. Her body had fallen, and her AI core simply wouldn't function. Joker had thought it was some cruel joke she'd been playing on him for one reason or another, but the more he tried to put her back online, moved her body…nothing would turn on.

Same happened with the Geth.

Upon further examination, even though it would take resources she didn't have, Tali had determined that it was possible to repair the damage. Bring them back to their original forms. Right now everything was so chaotic, from everyone trying to desperately get back to their home planets, the dysfunction of the Mass Effect relays, the destruction of the Citadel, the pieces that had to be put together from Earth…

Nothing was going to be easy.

Tali gave Garrus a comforting squeeze on his shoulder before leaving. Shortly she'd return with something for him to eat.

* * *

If there was one thing Liara T'Soni had trouble being without, it was her feed of knowledge that her computer systems provided her. After assisting with more pressing matters, any free time involved putting her systems back online and establishing contacts once they were back up throughout the galaxy. Right now, even with the war over, information continued to be crucial, especially when she was trying to get updates on the rest of the systems.

Anything relevant, she would send Hackett's way. There were signs of Tuchanka and Palaven reporting in. Relief hit her hard when there were reports of survivors on Thessia. Salarians were quiet on their front, but she figured it might as well be from shame for not backing up Shepard when they had the chance. They got it easy throughout this entire damn war. The least they could do is send assistance to neighboring systems that needed it.

Doing her rounds in the systems, her final peek was through the Alliance channels, browsing through messages and making sure there wasn't anything fishy going on. It all seemed clear until Liara blinked once, and then twice, and then three more times to make sure she wasn't hallucinating the name appearing on these messages.

Her doors opened, but her eyes refused to leave the screen.

"Hey Doc," greeted Vega hesitantly, taking a few steps in but waiting for an official "clear" to fully enter her quarters. "You got a minute?"

He almost thought she didn't hear him, because it took moments for her to finally turn her head to face him. "Good evening, James. How can I help you?"

"Admiral Hackett's calling for you on vid comm. Woulda' told you via speakers, but they're still acting funky from the crash."

"Did he say what for?"

"Negative."

Liara bit her bottom lip, glanced back at her screens and ultimately shut them off. If it was Hackett that needed to speak with her, then she figured she might have a good idea of what it was about. "Thank you. I'll be there in a minute."

"Hey. You, uh…okay? You seem out of it." Liara appreciated his concern, but told him she was fine and hurriedly exited her room. Vega was left there standing, then ultimately shrugged and strolled out. To his left were the open windows of the med bay and inside, he saw the familiar sight of a turian unmoving from her bed side.

He stuck his fingers in his pocket, reassuring the presence of something small and metallic in his hands before he mustered the courage to enter.

Garrus looked up and their eyes met, but no words were exchanged and Vega didn't know if that was a good thing. He had a feeling Garrus didn't hate him or anything, but there was some invisible tension between them since that day in the battle field where Vega was ordered to bring him inside the Normandy to escape. With how chaotic everything had gotten, neither of them had the chance to talk.

But now was better than never.

Pulling it from his pocket, on a silver chain dangled her military dog tag, scratched and chipped. It gave it character – history, really. He had found it amongst the rubble they reported to have found Shepard, shined it, and kept it until the time was right. "Wanted to bring this over," he said quietly and placed it by the vase of flowers. "You got a minute?"

Garrus nodded and motioned to the spare stool. "Take a seat."

Vega did just saw, sitting on the opposite side and taking a deep breath. It was the first time he had taken a good, solid look at the Commander, and while he knew she was getting better, he almost didn't recognize her. Being unconscious gave her face a sense of peace, instead of that hardened look she always wore; always scowling, always glaring, or at her best, smirking. She had suffer from drastic muscle loss and she looked unnaturally small. Unusually weak – a word he never thought of associating with her.

"Always had my bets on her." Vega forced a small smile.

"Without a doubt," Garrus replied. "Look. Back there – with the Citadel beam – you did the right thing. Dragging my ass back onto the ship. Thank you."

"She was going to make sure you lived, amigo."

The turian inhaled deeply and bobbed his head into a nod. "I know."

"She's gonna be all right. Once she wakes up, she's going to be ordering our asses around. First orders are probably to bring her all the food this ship is holding." He could hear her voice now; bossing people around, making a ruckus, flashing that irritable glare she wore so well. "Right, Lola?"

The machines beeped back to him in response. It wasn't what he was looking for, but he'd take it.


	2. Heart Lines

**Chapter Two: Heart Lines**

_Living on the streets wasn't so bad._

_No one bossed her around. She didn't get bathed enough, but she always hated showers anyway. Her parents usually forgot to feed her, so she wasn't exactly starving, and when her appetite did growl she rummaged through trash until she found a box of left overs, still kind of warm. Nibbling on it a little would fill her up._

_But then things got harder. The weather got colder, and when it rained, she didn't find a lot of shelter to curl up under. She got filthy. Her clothes had holes chewed through them by mice. She'd wandered into a shitty part of town, diseased with urban decay. _

_When she did find some place for shelter, it was an old, abandoned motel with crumbling walls and old water stains. It was claimed territory, and once dozens of eyes set on her, she immediately froze._

"_Get the fuck out, kid," snapped one of the older kids, wiping his mouth from stale bread crumbs. He looked pale with sunken eyes and rotten teeth. Sickly was probably the best way to describe him, and his shirt was covered in stains and sweat. "This isn't your turf."_

"_Quit being an asshole," spat another one, about the same age but maybe older. He wasn't as rugged as the one that initially cursed at her and he was wrapped around a blanket. Curious, his brown eyes looked her over and then he motioned her to come closer. "It's alright. He's pissed because we sold his stash. Who the hell are you?"_

_Even scared, her eyes narrowed into a glare and she took a cautious step back._

_The boy sighed. "Are you hungry or not?" He picked up a loaf of bread, hard and cold, but still edible if you were desperate enough. There wasn't any visible mold, so it looked safe. "C'mere before I eat this."_

_And she did. She walked over and tore the bread from his hands and sunk her teeth in. The bread crumbled and dirtied her shirt but she continued until there was nothing left and her stomach swelled in relief._

_Everyone was still staring at her. A fire was lit in what used to be the lobby, helping them stay warm. There were young people of varying ages – many older than her, and few younger than she was._

_When she finished eating, the boy offered her the friendliest smile she'd ever seen._

"_You got a name?"_

* * *

"Dr. T'Soni," she heard him begin. A bit of static interfered with the signal but his silhouette was still mostly visible. And the important thing was that she understood him. "Heard Shepard's recovery is going well. How's London?"

"Getting there. Major Alenko is doing an excellent job thus far."

Admiral Hackett had been traveling around, meeting with surviving politicians and militia leaders to get a better estimate of the damage. He'd left not after the memorial service done for Admiral Anderson; something he knew Shepard would have wanted to attend, but they couldn't stall. Kaidan stayed behind, appointed to oversee the general area and keep remain with the Normandy.

"I assume you know why I asked to speak with you."

"If it has to do with that message, yes."

"So, be straight with me, Dr. T'Soni. Shepard's family has been non-existent. On her public record, they're claimed as dead. Is this a stunt I should take care of now, or is this legitimate?"

Liara locked her hands behind her, straightening her posture. Part of her felt like this was almost a betrayal on Shepard's half, especially since she wasn't even conscious to even have a say in a revelation of her personal history. Granted, she had never even told Shepard about her extensive research in her background once she became Shadow Broker, but she figured the Commander knew. She was a smart woman, and as long as Liara never brought it up, there would have been no problems.

"My records show that while Commander Shepard claimed her parents died when she enlisted in the military, it was only half accurate. Her mother did indeed die from a drug negotiation gone awry. Her father moved on and re-married. Last I looked, he resided on the continent known as North America."

Hackett's brows as they furrowed in concern were clear as day to her, even with the fuzzy projection. "He requests to see her. I don't think that's such a good idea right now."

"I couldn't agree more, Admiral." Shepard never spoke much about her days on Earth. Her history with the Reds was knowledge easily accessed. Anybody who knew how to work the extranet could find that information. Anything regarding her parents, however, was hidden – mostly because Shepard left no _trace_ and they had never bothered finding her.

Not until now. And if she ran away, it was for a good reason.

"We've got some flight systems up and moving to transport people looking for family members," Hackett explained. "I'll make sure he doesn't get on one. Not until Shepard is awake and gives us a clear answer."

Liara nodded.

"Contact me if you need anything. Hackett out."

She didn't think to tell anyone else – not unless it was absolutely, positively necessary. She did feel a pang of guilt from keeping it from Garrus, however. If there was anyone Shepard might have spoken to about her family, he would be her guess. He seemed so stressed though, always so concerned; filling his thoughts with the worst possible scenario of her condition, even though Dr. Chakwas said that, in due time, she'd be fine.

Before the elevators closed, Kaidan has squeezed in before the doors shut. The asari smiled sheepishly. "You could have told me to hold them for you."

"Didn't think of it then for some reason," Kaidan replied with an awkward laugh. She eyed the bottle of whiskey in his grip and he smiled fondly at it. "It's for the Commander. Same brand she gave me when I was stuck in a hospital bed. Figured if I put it next to her, the urge to drink will help her get better."

"I think everyone's waiting for her to wake up and get better to have a celebratory drink." After a beep echoed in the elevator, the doors opened, and both of them were greeted with the clear, unavoidable sight that was the memorial wall. Names all too familiar to them were engraved, and it was like reading it for the first time all over again.

After a mutual moment of silence, they turned the corner and saw the doors of the med bay straight ahead. "Garrus is still in there, isn't he?"

"Yes, and when he does leave, he doesn't leave for long. He usually helps Tali try to re-configure the AI core to bring EDI back online. It's…proving to be a challenge," she said. Liara provided aid when she could, but AI's were a brand of technology many weren't well-versed in. "The more he waits, the more anxious he becomes. Him, and Joker."

"Can't blame them," Kaidan said softly.

* * *

Two weeks later, Dr. Chakwas announced that she was lifting Shepard from the coma.

"She won't wake up _immediately_," she hastily clarified, holding her hand up to silence anyone's exclamations of excitement. She knew where they were coming from. And she couldn't deny that she had been waiting for this day, too. But she wanted them to know what to exactly expect. "She's going to be in and out of consciousness a lot. I'm still giving her a good amount of pain medication to make sure she's comfortable."

She had kicked everyone out of the med bay – and yes, Garrus included. She told them that if they were so curious, they could watch from outside the windows, which was precisely what they did. The doctor and the two scientists that had worked on her cybernetics all took notes, riding down numbers and other significant details before removing the drug that had kept her down under for so long.

"Can't wait for the bitch to wake up." Jack scowled. "I've been sober _way_ too fucking long."

"First world problems, much?" Joker quipped, grinning regardless of the nasty look he had received. "Look at it this way: when she's up and moving, we throw a massive party, and put the one we had before to _shame._"

"I hardly remember that night," Tali mumbled with a mix of embarrassment and disappointment.

"She looks so _puny._" Grunt observed, cocking his head to the side with his mouth agape in mild disbelief. "She needs to fight. Get that muscle back. Hehe." He punched his fist into his palm, practically hopping in excitement.

While they chattered amongst themselves, their voices were like white noise to his ears. All his eyes were focused on was that main tube Chakwas gently pulled from her veins, and once that was out, began _another_ round of waiting.

_Spirits._ Waiting was going to be the death of him. He didn't know how much longer he could take. He could see the machines from where he stood but to confirm her vitals, he activated his visor to read the numbers more closely himself.

Then, a hand slapped his shoulder – a slap strong enough to almost knock him into the glass. "You need a drink as soon as she wakes up, Vakarian."

"You have no idea, Wrex. You have no idea."

Mostly everyone had filtered out of the crew deck. The hours signified the setting of the sun and time for rest. Even the lights in the med bay were dimmed. Wrex and Garrus had stood in front of the windows, watching and talking for a good while. Catching up and reminiscing, just like old times. Their friendship had been unorthodox – both races at odds, but they had managed to become unlikely allies. Garrus' saving grace to Wrex was that he honestly _wasn't_ like any other turian.

Otherwise he would still probably snub him. And bash his face in. Or both.

Actually, both.

"Gotta say though," Wrex said with a rumble. "I'm going to miss all the fighting."

"I'm sure you'll find someone to punch soon, Wrex."

It was time for the krogan to leave, but he spared a glance at Shepard one last time before facing Garrus. "She's a fighter. She's going to be fine. She's an honorary krogan for a damn good reason."

"I know that," Garrus insisted. This was Commander Fucking Shepard. There was no doubt in his mind that she was going to pummel through this, and in no time she'll be back on her feet barking orders to the crew. "I just want to make sure that when she opens her eyes for the first time, she's not alone."

She had saved the damn galaxy at the cost of her own well being. There were countless of sleepless nights she'd suffer through – writhing and waking up from nightmares, shortening her sleep hours to finish up reports to send back to Hackett. There were days she would scarf down a handful of protein bars and drinks to replenish electrolytes before a mission, which wasn't even enough. She was a _vanguard._ Biotics were a huge depletion of energy – energy that she didn't' always have to spare.

Shepard, in the end, had taken care of all of them. She at least deserved to have someone that looked after her, made sure she was alright, and would remind her that sometimes, she doesn't have to carry the weight of an entire galaxy's existence.

At least, not anymore.

Once Wrex was gone, he entered the med bay and climbed onto the spare hospital bed. Sometimes he'd stay there with her; other times he'd keep to himself in the Battery Room, accompanied only by the little hamster housed in the glass tank. Shepard had no fish because she completely sucked at keeping them alive, but the hamster was a strange success. It survived the Omega-4 Relay and the ship crashing.

How? Good question.

Joker had insisted that maybe Cerberus got their greedy little hands on it and implanted it with mutant cybernetics, but of course, no one bought it.

He settled into the bed and laid on his side. Facing her was the only way he could get sleep, even if his sleeping pattern here was often irregular. Sometimes he'd shoot up from a terrible dream and in half-sleep delusion, he would think she flat-lined. He would clumsily get off the bed and scramble to his side, breathless, and finally calm down when he witnessed the heart monitor still beeping and her body still breathing. _She's fine, she's going to be _fine, he would tell himself. And he knew that in his heart.

Except his mind kept playing cruel tricks on him to "keep him on his goddamn toes," as humans often said.

He sighed, eyeing the heart monitor. The beep was monotonous and sometimes even aggravating, but he kept telling himself this: that beep was her heart. As long as he heard that beep, his eyes would close and it would bring sleep.

This time, he went to sleep - right when her eyes cracked open for the first time.


	3. Cutting Down Family Trees

**Chapter Three: Cutting Down Family Trees**

"_You want to join the Tenth Street Reds," she told him, fighting a grin. She was sure he was joking, but with how perplexed he was looking, doubt started to cast in. "Come on now. Don't they have some crazy initiation anyway? And why?"_

_He was seventeen now, and she was fourteen. Four years ago was when she stumbled accidentally into the crappy little motel that had become their domain. No one really paid attention to her, but he was the one that took her in, wrapped her in a blanket and kept her mostly fed. Kids and teenagers filtered in and out; some leaving, moving onto different cities. Some dying from sickness and addictions. But no matter the changes, they were inseperable._

"_You can't say you're happy here," he rolled his eyes and leaned against his elbows, blowing his bangs away from his eyes. "The shit they're able to rob could set us up for months. One gig, and I swear, we could actually get you nice clothes. Not second hand crap."_

_She shrugged her shoulders, glancing down at her little get up. Being on the streets made her efficient and resourceful – clothing could be found everywhere, if you looked right. And she had fun with it, finding old bins of recycled clothing, cutting up stuff to make it fit and finding things to match. Although she had to admit, it'd be nice to have something new every once in awhile._

"_And," he continued, offering her a boyish grin as he rolled on top of her. Her blue eyes blinked, eyebrow rising at his antics and she playfully pushed his shoulders. "You should join with me."_

"_Isn't that kind of thing a little dangerous?"_

"_You steal from grown men at knife point. And no one's going to mess with you – not with those biotics you have. You know how rare it is for a human to have that and not have their brains get all mushy and shit on the inside? At least without snorting that crazy red sand shit. The Alliance military would kill to make you one of their whipped war hounds."_

_She sighed. "Like hell I'd join the military. I don't know about a gang, though."_

_She didn't like to think too far ahead in the future – because that involved planning, and she wasn't ready yet. She knew she didn't want to live in old, rustic places and keep digging in garbage for resources of survival. Soon she was going to crave more stability. A home. Safety. All the rights of a normal fucking person._

_The Tenth Street Reds were loaded – at least compared to most street gangs out there. You had to really impress them to get with them, and rumor has it that they did take good care of you. As long as you weren't a backstabbing snitch. Then they'd find you and kill you._

"_We won't be in it forever. Just enough to get on our feet. Find a place. Get actual jobs. No more being around people who're shooting shit up their veins or sleeping on a piss stained mattress."_

_Sounded too good to be true. She bit her lip._

"_Think about it. What do we have to lose?"_

* * *

It was awhile before she figured out where the hell she was.

When her eyes first opened, all she saw were blurred shapes and colors. White, silver, sometimes blue and black and none of it made sense. Her head swam with a strange euphoria; like she had been waking up from a dream into another dream, where nothing made sense and nothing was real.

Instances like this would happen a lot. Sometimes she could start making sounds – _beep, beep, and beep._ Then she heard people speak; noises that she eventually understood were words. Words that she eventually understood were sentences. Sentences spoken by voices she heard before but she wasn't able to distinguish them.

_Vitals are on track, bones healing well._

_Don't break my desk! Wrex and Grunt, you are banned from this med bay. Get out._

_Can we get drunk yet?_

_Wake up soon. I miss you._

_She needs to gain some weight. Going to stock up on whatever ice cream I have ASAP._

_What the fuck? Who the hell has ice cream stored away after a war?_

She'd hear voices in her dreams. Voices that she knew didn't belong there; voices that kept trying to wake her up and she would try and try to open her eyes. Sometimes it was too hard, and then the dreams turned into complete darkness. Sometimes her eyes would open, and she would see the outline of someone she thought was familiar before her eyes closed again.

And then, she finally woke up.

Everything was bright. Her eyes shut tightly and then blinked hard the next few times they opened, trying to get her pupils to adjust. Everything was so white and metallic, everything smelled so sterile with a hint of a strange fragrance. _Flowers. I smell flowers._

But god_damn, _she couldn't get over how bright it was. It bothered her – her eyes couldn't stay open for long and she kept seeing flashes of explosions behind her closed lids. She raised her arms but they felt heavy – as if sand had replaced the blood in her veins – and then realized she was _attached_ to something. Then she heard the obnoxious beeps speed up, the lag time between them shortening and then it felt like she couldn't breathe. Her throat suddenly constricted and all she could do was gasp for oxygen she felt like wasn't there.

Someone heard the struggle because she felt hands pinning her against the bed to keep her from hurting herself. And then there were voices. She heard voices again. This time she was able to tell them apart – the proper, slightly accented voice of her doctor and a voice deep with a husky edge. Instantly, she knew who it was.

"It's okay, Shepard. You're _okay._ It's the med bay. We're on the Normandy. You're _okay_," he kept telling her, trying to ease her with desperation hanging on his voice. It worked, because she stopped squirming and her throat felt less constricted. She could breathe again. _That_ was improvement.

"Bright," Shepard choked out, her words sounding so raspy she felt it scratch against her throat. "_Bright."_

"Dimming the lights," Dr. Chakwas announced. "It's all right now, Commander. Open your eyes."

She did with fear, but when her eyes didn't feel that glaring pain, she blinked them open wider. She could see clearer now; alien blue eyes staring down at her, those clan markings etched in his scales. Familiarity. Motivation. She saw the way his mandibles flared, smiling in relief.

"Good job in following orders," Garrus whispered, brushing back some of her chocolate brown hair from her eyes. He had been there when she would blearily waken in some sort of daze, but she was so unfocused that she had never even registered his presence and would fall asleep again. This time was different – she moved, she spoke, and she looked at him. She looked at him like she _knew_ him. That spoke volumes about her condition.

Shepard tried to find her voice, but apparently she had spent it in saying two damn words. Instead she opted in giving him a weak thumbs up. He captured her little digit with his hands and kissed it.

Chakwas chuckled and gently eased Garrus away from the bed. "Give her space, now. Going to give her a physical. If you want, you can tell everyone else. But I don't want them crowding her. She still needs rest. Understood?"

Garrus tensed, really wanting to protest the good doctor's request. This is what he'd been waiting for – her to return to consciousness, to open her eyes and look at him, because she was _alive._ But even though she was awake, he could tell she was struggling just to keep her eyes open and awake. This was progress. This was a _good sign._ She pulled through, just like he knew she would.

So he nodded, but before he left he lowered himself to nuzzle her cheek. Warm, soft. _Alive._ "I'll be back."

She still couldn't find her voice. Couldn't even find a last bit of strength to nod her head, telling him she understood. All she could do was look at him, brows furrowed to express a sense of sadness from him leaving and that look made it so much harder to turn away from her.

"He'll be back," Dr. Chakwas quipped, mouth widened into a soft smile. "He's barely left your side, anyway."

He left, despite his regret. The doctor gently pulled the blankets off her body, visually examining her and taking down a quick jot of notes. "Think you'll be able to stay awake with me to answer a few questions?

Her head barely moved but she could tell Shepard tried to nod. That answer sufficed.

"Blink twice for yes, blink three times for no. Can you do that?"

Shepard blinked three times.

"Awake and already a smartass. Don't be difficult."

She blinked twice.

"That's better," she breathed a relieved sigh. "I'll make this quick then, Commander. Bear with me for a little bit longer."

* * *

"We need another accessible entrance to the AI core that _isn't_ through the med bay," Joker said, sighing as they all waited around the table on the crew deck. "I don't want to walk in on Dr. Chakwas giving a physical to a barely dressed Commander. That's just weird."

It'd been several days since Shepard had been conscious, but she was still often sleeping and Dr. Chakwas and the lingering Cerberus scientists ran tests, making sure her cybernetics were still properly functioning. A few times they caught the cybernetics weakening and had to make adjustments, but nothing all that alarming. She'd been regaining some strength though – she would sort of talk now, move her head, move her arms. Those cracked ribs of hers were mostly healed and Chakwas had her hooked up to enough medication so she wouldn't feel the last aches of recovery. Her legs were a different story, taking longer than the rest, and she had given them a heads up that a wheel chair would be her best option of mobility for a bit.

She wasn't too happy about it, but whatever.

"Heard Admiral Hackett's coming back," Vega brought up, killing time by lifting a set of weights he brought with him from the shuttle bay. "That true?"

"Why wouldn't he? You know the moment she's able to get back on her terminal, the first thing he's going to do is hound her for a report," said Kaidan.

Everyone laughed because, unfortunately...he was right.

"Garrus." Liara stepped out from her cabin, beckoning the turian over. "You got a minute?"

Garrus looked up, confused but nodded. In his hands he had the little hamster, but he decided to equip Joker with the responsibility of caring for it. "Here. Don't drop it. Don't lose it."

"Wait, what? Why me? This thing got _fat." _Joker look appalled as the tiny mammal stood up in his hands with a twitching pink nose. "You feed it too much."

"Don't say that, and don't let Shepard hear that either," Tali said and reached over, poking at the little fuzzball with one of her fingers. "You'll give it a complex."

He didn't know they were discussing private matters until her heard the mechanical sound of the door shutting behind him. This room barely needed any lights to illuminate it; it was the brightness of the wall of screens Liara had for herself that made everything in the room visible.

"Is everything alright, Liara?"

"I wanted to give you a heads up about something."

"Well, that surely doesn't sound ominous in the least."

She offered him a weak smile and motioned him over to the terminal beside hers. It was the one Shepard always used when there was something of interested discovered and she wanted to share it. "Look there. Found these messages while looking through Alliance messages. I was trying to make sure there was nothing suspicious going on. Don't see why there would be – but I prefer to be cautious and aware, regardless."

The terminal's screen lit up. Garrus stiffened from where he stood.

Liara eyed him, noting the way he tensed, the way his talons flexed. Surprise wasn't a word she would use to describe him – he definitely didn't strike her as confused. The name he read was familiar, meaning Shepard had mentioned her family to him before, just as she had suspected.

"Her father?"

She confirmed it with a nod.

"She figured he'd be dead by now," Garrus said, his voice edged with quiet anger.

"He re-married a couple years after her mother died. To someone much younger."

"You never told her?"

She shook her head, biting down on her lip. "Didn't know how she'd react if I told her I did extensive background search behind her back. I expect she knew, though, but was more content with not bringing it up. If she wanted to know, she knew she could have asked me."

"He never looked for her before this. Why now?" Something about it didn't settle right with him. Garrus had an impeccable sense of instinct; his gut always told him when things were on the verge of turning sour, and this one reeked of bullshit. There was a slight chance that maybe he wanted to make amends, especially with the war being over and Shepard's name being associated with the title "galactic savior."

However, Garrus wasn't exactly known for his optimism.

"Not entirely sure. He hasn't changed from his addictions, though," Liara hinted, and he knew exactly what she was referring to.

_Still that goddamn red sand junkie._

Discussions on family had been a source of pillow talk one night. Even after exhausting themselves in the entanglement of her bed sheets, neither of them could sleep. While they were wrapped up comfortably within each other's arms, they would talk. Talk about anything and everything. Weapons, the stories behind other scars that engraved their bodies. Past missions, old friends that didn't make it.

And their histories. His mother, his sister, his father. And then hers – she was an only child to two unprepared parents that were intrigued and afraid of her biotics, and instead of caring for her and understanding her, lost themselves in the addicting thrall of red sand to see what it was like. She ran away once shit got rough, her mother was killed during a drug negotiation that went wrong, and she always figured her father died at some point. She never cared enough to know for sure.

"Admiral Hackett is making sure we stall any chances of him getting on any air flights. Some means of transportation are being provided for survivors who are looking for missing friends or family members. But he's starting to cause a ruckus. Threatening to find any working news reporter to shamelessly broadcast that the Alliance isn't allowing him to see his daughter and gain some public sympathy. Do you think Shepard would want to see him?"

As much as he would have liked to say no, he heaved a heavy sigh. "I can't speak for her in that aspect. When she's better, she can give us a straight answer. But if he gets his damn hands on a reporter, it'll be a hell of a story. They won't turn it down."

"My thought's exactly," the asari agreed quietly. None were naïve to think that just because the war was over, people would hold hands and commonly practice the art of sympathy. While there were examples of such, she knew people were still selfish and ruthless after everything is said and done, no matter what the race.

A question gnawed at him, and he was almost afraid to ask. He opted to anyway, unsure if he was prepared for the answer. "Any children from the current marriage?" If there was a chance there was a sibling out there – even a half-sibling – he was damned sure that was something she would want to know.

Liara actually _winced._ "One. A little boy. Sources say he and the mother are currently missing. A result from the war."

No, he wasn't prepared for the answer. And he was sure Shepard wouldn't be either. "How old is he?"

"Too young," she confessed morosely. "Too young."


	4. The Devil In You

**Chapter 4: The Devil In You**

"_Get the job done," was what they told them. It was always easier said than done._

_He noticed her annoyance and gave her a light nudge. "Don't worry about it," he said, trying to be reassuring but then she flashed him a cold glare. He sighed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Once we do this, we're in. It seems easy enough. Get the money this drug whore owes and bring it back to them."_

_The Reds had several divisions and several people appointed as leaders for each sect. It was common for this division to give runaways a chance – this was practically the city of lost souls, aimlessly trying to grasp at anything to survive. The leader seemed hesitant at first – both of them seemed too young, too green. Especially her. But when the boy blurted out that she had biotic abilities, it changed everything._

_He was lucky he had her. Honestly, he wouldn't have been able to join if it weren't for her. He wouldn't tell her that. Chances are, she'd take it the wrong way. _

_She wasn't pleased with him and he had no idea how to fix it. "Look at me, please?"_

_She did, but she still had that looked that screamed, 'I want to fucking end you.'_

"_It's not gonna be a big deal, okay? They're either gonna be on red sand or creeper or hallex or what the fuck else. We know how to deal with druggies. Either fuck around with them and make them into a fool, or they'll be so gone in their own fucking trips that we'll take everything. I won't let anything bad happen. I promise."_

_She snarled, directing her glare elsewhere. "This better be worth it."_

"_It will." He sounded so sure of himself. How could she not believe him? His fingers squeezed her arms gently and eventually that glare dissipated. He leaned down to give her a kiss against the cheek. "Everything will get better. We won't be shit poor. Hot meals. Hot baths. Better smelling bed."_

_He made a silly face to try and break the ice. She couldn't help but smile even if she didn't want to. "Alright, I get it. Let's get this over with."_

_They were equipped with weapons for self-defense; she always had a rusted knife slipped up her sleeve and they let him borrow a shitty pistol to hide under his shirt just in case it got rough. And as shitty as it might be, the damn thing had a bullet, and it would hurt someone a good bit if he pulled the trigger._

_When they turned the corner, they finally located the meeting space. It was some dingy alley with fire ignited inside a trash can, burning all the newspaper and rotting food inside it. Mattresses were thrown on the ground along with moldy couches. It was in an empty part of town, void from any law enforcers because they had more serious things to handle than people wasting their lives for a quick high._

_Like they had been told, it was the secret little spot of about three people, laughing and telling each other stories that didn't make sense. She heard a cackle that caused a shiver to rip up her spine, but she chalked it up to imagination and paranoia. It was still too dim to see anything._

"_All these people owe him money," he said and emerged from their cover, walking towards them. She followed him, her fingers tingling and glowing in that blue, rippling light that terrified people there so much. "Let's make them pay what they owe."_

* * *

The state of her throat had given her an excuse to not talk much. Which was good – she could see questions in their eyes, their mouth moving as if they were going to ask something, but then when they realized it would involve an extensive use of her vocals, they decided otherwise.

It's not like she _couldn't_ talk, don't get her wrong – and even though it filled her with a pang of guilt, she had been exaggerating the issue with her throat. It had definitely been dry and raspy; she didn't know how long she'd been without drinking water the normal way. And talking too much made it worse, so she opted not to really talk at all.

Silence gave her time to think. Silence gave her time to close her eyes and see flashes of memories in her mind; the brightness of the beam, the scent of blood thick in the air, the cringing screams of incoming banshees and the sounds of weapons firing. Then it all went to when she was transported to the Citadel, sitting beside Anderson, listening to him speak.

Telling her how proud of her he was.

Words sounding like something a father would say.

And then he died, right next to her.

There were still blanks in the entire thing her memory failed to fill. With how bad she got out of it, it was understandable that there were some things she'd remember in time. Shepard was an impatient woman, however, and the less she remembered what happened the more frustrated she became. She remembered glimpses of the Illusive Man, his disfigured face the eerie glow of chaotic blue that filled his eyes. A glow she remembered seeing in Saren.

A quiver went down her spine. Goosebumps overcame her bare arms.

She'd been awake enough to hear her crewmates tell the stories of what she had missed out on. One was the service for Anderson, and Kaidan had been morbid enough to record it, knowing that Shepard at least deserved to see it at some point. She hadn't seen it yet. Maybe it was the drugs that still pumped into her veins, giving her a sense of numbness and a peculiar dream-like sensation, even awake.

But watching that video.

Seeing all the destruction.

It would make it all real.

_Hero._ A title never thought she'd earn. It certainly was a title she felt she didn't deserve. Protesting against it would lead to a pointless argument. There weren't many people around who was able to lead them the direction she did, and even though she made hard decisions, tough calls, spouted ruthless orders, despite the consequences…

She never blinked an eye then. She never let it get to her. She didn't have time to think about it. One million die, so ten million can live. She didn't remember her _exact_ quote, but it was something along those lines and it meant the same thing.

But the war was over, fought, and she had won. It wasn't skill that helped her survive – it was sheer, ridiculous luck.

Part of her wished she'd—

"Jack taught me had to make a protein shake," Garrus said when he entered the med bay, his digits gripping the cup pierced by a straw. His faced expressed a degree of perplexity. "Rather strange consistency. She says it's filled with calories, though, so good for weight gain. It has chocolate and bananas, so I'm assuming it'd taste fine. If human chocolate is similar to my kind of chocolate, anyway."

Night had fallen on this side of Earth. The Normandy had gone quiet as people filtered into their respective crew quarters. Without fail, Garrus had occupied the hospital bed beside her every night. They say he wasn't watching her every breath now that she was awake and he was sure her heart kept beating. It was good that he was going out more, getting involved and helping Liara – whatever it was they were doing, anyway.

He occupied her bedside and offered her the cup. It felt strangely heavy in her hands and Shepard suppressed a scowl. She was almost convinced her cybernetics were all fucked up again – her recovery was taking too goddamn long. Maybe it was the extent of the damage, but at this rate excuses were fucking excuses and she wanted out of this bed _now._

"I'm not entirely sure what you're thinking about, but you look angry, sweetie."

Shepard blinked, not realizing her face contorted into something resembling annoyance and sighed. After a large sip of the protein shake, her shoulders relaxed and she snuggled her back against the bed. "Sorry," she croaked.

Garrus shook his head. It was silly to apologize for something that didn't offend him. He reached over, tucking some strands of stray brown hair behind her ear. "Your hair's gotten long." Not that he was complaining – it was something he observed while she was put under, and he loved it. Running his talons through her hair was one of his favorite things to do. Simply, it was more to caress. "Are you alright to talk? You can say no. I don't want you straining yourself."

"I'm fine," she insisted, coughing to clear her throat but it didn't do much. The shake felt nice, though – cold, and moist to relieve her dry mouth.

Garrus suddenly fidgeted, glanced around in some sort of nervous fashion, which she thought strange. Garrus Vakarian wasn't the nervous type. Well, not _usually_, and not this far in their relationship. He'd been awkward and unsure in the beginning, neither of them certain how a human-turian relationship would even play out. That was then, though, and after their reunion back on Palaven they have been stronger than ever. They couldn't give two shits about anyone who disapproved of their interspecies liaison. It had gotten a lot of attention (Udina threw a tantrum, screaming something about humanity), but what the hell were they going to do?

_Nothing._ Shepard made sure it stayed that way.

There was obviously something he wanted to talk about, and Shepard was afraid he'd bombard her with questions about what exactly happened when she entered that beam.

But what he had said was definitely something she was _not_ prepared for. "Apparently your father's still…alive."

Silence.

_She's not saying anything. Maybe I should have—_

"O…kay," Shepard hesitantly replied, brows furrowed and meeting in the middle. Slowly she pulled the straw away from her mouth. She didn't look all that upset. Confused, definitely, with slight concern, but she wasn't upset. "What…brought this up?"

"Well, you're kind of famous."

"I've always _been kind of famous_. Speed this up, Garrus."

"Well, more so that you saved an entire galaxy's organic life from the brink of extinction. But I digress." He inhaled sharply, voice lowering with a tone of danger. "He's making a ruckus, Shepard. He's demanding to be reunited with you. Pulling the sympathy card on the few networks still able to broad cast. None have picked up his story thanks to some interference, but it's only a matter of time."

Something about the protein shake she was holding must have been interesting, because that's where her eyes were locked on while he spoke.

"And I'm sure the interference can continue," he continued, and then chose the wording of the next sentence very carefully. "Unless you want to see him."

"_You're going to hell, little girl," he would say, lighting up another cigarette and taking a swig from the bottle. Both of them worked at some restaurant; her mother was a waitress, her father was a cook. Both of them hated their jobs, hated everyone, hated the world. They had a baby young and were married because of her, and now they were as miserable as could be. "Don't you start using that creepy ass bullshit under my roof, understood?"_

_In the background she saw her mother, dressed in a dirty t-shirt and underwear. Her fingers were trembling when she tried opening her pill bottle and let out an angered growl until the lid flew open with a pop. It held little pills that would calm her down, keep her nervous quivering to a minimum and she would fall asleep._

"_Understood?" he repeated, his voice stronger._

_She stared at him, unafraid. Her nose wrinkled at the smell of his breath. Even at that age, it took her a little more than daddy's piss-poor attitude to make her quiver in her raggedy shoes. As a response, she shrugged._

_Big mistake._

"Shepard?"

She set the shake aside, no longer wanting it. "I'm thinking."

Honestly, what caught her off guard the most was that he was _alive._ She was born in a terrible city and in an even more terrible neighborhood. Drugs, crime and exploitation were what made those streets run. It was _business._ Most people that were born there, stayed there, and died there. Others went off to different areas that were plagued with the same shit. Others, if they were lucky, left it all behind, moving on.

She was one of them.

Her father remained there last she checked, and that was almost a decade ago. When she joined the Alliance Navy – something she never thought she'd ever do – she did a search once. She had them put on her records that her parents were deceased. It was a fair guess, but when she got curious and looked to see if there were any death certificates with his name, a few of them popped up. None were him.

Redemption was a path she never thought he'd think of going down on. If he wanted money, he would have tried contacting her ages ago – right when she became the first human Spectre. That moment was a _big fucking deal,_ galactic news broadcasted especially on Earth. He would have tried milking her right then and there. But there was never an attempt made on his behalf. _Ever_. She was fine assuming he was dead.

"Liara says he's still an addict," Garrus informed quietly, hoping that maybe knowing that would make the decision easier to make.

Shepard didn't even bother fighting that smirk. _Not surprised._ "Anything else?"

Garrus saw no point in keeping information from her. One, it would be a clear disrespect to her, and he loved her too much to ever do that – even if it's "for her own good." Two, he would get into a _lot_ of trouble and he knew first hand her wrath was something best to be avoided. Shepard didn't like secrets and Shepard didn't like deceit – even though she was weary and exhausted, she would still want to know the details.

"He re-married a couple of years ago to someone younger."

_Again. Not surprised. _

"Out of that marriage came a little boy. Both him and the mother are missing as a result of war."

Okay. _Surprised._

There weren't a lot of things that genuinely surprised Shepard. Actually, Garrus couldn't recall another scenario where her eyes became wider than plates or where her jaw dropped.

She thought she was prepared to hear anything. But she was _not_ prepared to hear that.

Shepard coughed into her first, furrowed her brows and then tenderly rubbed her throat. Pieces of a puzzle started coming together and then she figured it out – he wasn't getting in contact to make amends.

He was getting in contact to ask for help.

_Great fucking timing._

Then, there was silence. Garrus had expected her to inquire at least about the boy, but she looked troubled and in thought. Understandable, since she had seemed to move on, content to live life without any blood relatives. He asked her about it once – asked her if there was a part of her that wished she had a whole family to go back home too. She'd shrug, half-heartedly smile and tell him that she made her own family throughout the years on this ship. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

If she didn't want keep discussing it, he wasn't about to press further on the topic. He leaned over her and pressed a kiss on her forehead. "You should get some sleep."

And when he tried to straighten, she had curled her fingers tightly into his clothes. For once he wasn't wearing that ridiculously bulky armor. Looks like he finally realized no cannibal or marauder was going to shoot a round of bullets in his direction anymore. "Sleep with me?" she asked quietly, and with how pitiful she sounded…he didn't want to say no.

"I don't know," he answered honestly and examined the bed. Before both her arms had needles and tubes stuck in, and now that she was awake and recovering faster, there was less and they'd been isolated to just one arm. If he moved her closer to the side, he could fit in. "If I move, and my sc—"

"Doesn't matter how beat up I am right now," Shepard interrupted. "I'm not made out of glass. I'll be fine."

She was going to be stubborn about this, even though her eyes blinked up sleepily at him. Garrus sighed, shoulders drooping and he climbed in bed with her. Both were very careful, not wanting to yank at the tubes and needles and they settled comfortable in a spooning position they discovered had been their favorite. War hadn't allowed time for cuddling most of the time. Missions and distress calls weren't kind to their sleeping schedules and sometimes shit got so rough that they didn't get sleep – at all.

Even if the circumstances weren't exactly ideal, he took the opportunity to cherish his hold on her; breathe her in, feel the gentle beat of her heart. They could sleep without the concern of them dying the next day, and that feeling was the final reassurance to remind them that it really was over.

"Garrus?"

"Yes?"

Shepard bit her lip and squeezed his hands tightly. Her tight grip right now, unfortunately, was still weak but he returned the gesture. "Thanks."

He didn't ask what for. She was all right with that. He nuzzled into the back of her neck and she closed her eyes. If there was one thing she thought she deserved after this entire clusterfuck of bloodshed – it was this.

It's strange to think, that after everything that's happened, she would find peace in the arms of a turian.


	5. The Panic Button

**Chapter Five: The Panic Button**

_What had happened wasn't in their agenda. He didn't expect things to go all that smoothly, sure, but he didn't expect her to actually know one of them. What he thought was just an acquaintance turned out to be something a lot more fucked up than he ever thought. Now she was the one with the gun in her hands and he was the one flat on his ass. Three corpses surrounded them with the lingering scent of fresh blood._

"_Was that seriously—"_

"_Shut up," she snapped and pointed the gun in his direction. Despite her mental state it wasn't a threatening gesture and he knew she had already exhausted the gun until the ammo was fully spent. Her face became a little green and he watched her turn around. Once the splatter of vomit hit the ground, he winced and stood, wiping the blood from his mouth._

_This wasn't how he wanted things to end, no. It was naïve to think situations like this wouldn't get ugly. What he did regret was her involvement – but she handled it surprisingly well. He was beginning to realize that out of them, she was the one suited to deal with brute force. Never again will he ever say girls can't fight, because she had proven him wrong time and time again. He didn't think she'd have it in her to do something like this._

_But survival was a desperate thing, and she knew how to do it. That's what he liked about her so much: when shit got rough, she never gave up. She pummeled through. She wanted to live._

_His eyes fell onto the nearest, freshest corpse and his head cocked to the side as he examined her. She seemed strangely aged, but he was sure most of it had to do with her lifestyle. There were a few things that were similar to him – the color of her eyes, the shape of her nose. It was a striking similarity now that he had a chance to see it for himself._

_After wiping her mouth, his partner straightened and she lowered herself to the body. Curiosity was the first thing he felt, and then outright confusion when she started to loot her. "You sure this isn't the least bit morbid? After all, isn't she—"_

"_I'm getting the job done." Her statement effectively silenced him. He knew she was right. So he knelt beside her and helped her. The last thing they removed were two rings – what she recognized to be her engagement and wedding band. Jewelry she's always had her eyes on since child hood._

"_You're good at this," he whispered._

"_What?" She looked to him and he couldn't tell if her cheeks were wet with sweat or tears. _

_Come to think of it, he had never even seen her cry._

"_Any other person would have probably shot themselves after this. You did…good. You did what you had to do. She probably isn't what you remembered. Bet you did her a favor. Hell, she couldn't even remember you. What kind of mother is that?"_

* * *

"You never cease to impress me, Shepard." The image of Miranda was a little fuzzy – she knew the Normandy crashed at some point and received a certain degree of damage, and she figured the quality of the communication room was a casualty. Either way, she could at least understand her. A clear image of her wouldn't make a difference. "I'm genuinely surprised."

"Oh, so now you're going to tell me you doubted my abilities after _everything that's happened_?"

"More that you've kept your crew alive," she clarified and Shepard could make out the movement of a shrug. "You've always had the more than sterling record of 'getting the job done, no matter what the cost.' Even at the expense of your fellow soldiers. Honestly had me a little nervous at the Collector Base."

"Only some of my crew lived this time around," Shepard reminded darkly.

"Mordin and Legion chose their fate. And as for Thane…his time was ticking way before you came along. But I'm sure you didn't call me to reminisce, or to tell you what you already know. What can I do for you, Shepard?"

"A favor. Kind of a big favor. Did you get the intel I sent you?"

Miranda scratched her chest and shifted nervously. "I did. I'll…see what I can do. My Cerberus contacts are virtually none, but I'll find Jacob. I'm sure we can get you what you need. Not sure if it'll exactly work, to be honest. Or how long it will take, so please bear with me."

Shepard wasn't sure of the outcome, either. She knew shit when it came to AI's – maybe the basic technology – but nothing in regards of re-building one and making sure it would still be the_ same_ AI. Traynor, Tali and Garrus were more of the tech and engineer types. Shepard's expertise was making up crazy plans as shit progressed, acting on them, and somehow surviving. Give her an impossible mission and she will complete it, middle fingers raised high in the air in triumph.

"I know. Just…try this for me. I don't know what the hell to do besides twiddle my damn thumbs while I'm in this thing." Shepard pointed to the wheel chair she was strapped in. She was finally able to freely move around thanks to this contraption, but again, patience. She didn't have a drop of it. She tried standing on her own but her bones screamed in pain and overall, it was a bad experience. Dr. Chakwas insisted and because she's the one with the damn medical degree, Garrus echoed every recommendation. Now that they weren't on missions and she wasn't the one barking out orders for the sake of the galaxy, he was actually being an insubordinate pain in the ass.

But a loveable insubordinate pain in the ass, regardless.

"I'll do what I can. Ori sends her regards."

Shepard nodded.

"And I'm sure you must get tired of hearing this, but…thank you."

"If you can pull through for me on this, then likewise, Miranda." She cut the link.

Miranda had always been a companion given to her by force. She didn't have a choice back then, and working with her was the only way to get the damn job done. She wasn't her most _favorite_ person in the world, and quite frankly, her little whine about how hard it was being perfect made her rolls her eyes, but she was all right. And a dangerous woman in her own right – Shepard could always respect that in her, at least.

Shepard glanced down at her legs and sighed in disappointment, shoulders drooping. It wouldn't have been so bad if the doctor would have at least given her a timeframe of when she could get _out_ of this thing, and not knowing made it feel like she was going to be trapped in it forever. She wheeled herself out of vid comm, and through the war room. Everyone on ship still stopped, straightened, and saluted her as she passed by. The Normandy was a little more cramped now that it became shelter for other soldiers while they clear the Reaper tech out of London. It was funny how the ship now felt fully staffed _after_ the war was won.

"Thought you forgot about our crippled date," Joker announced once she came wheeling into the observation deck. The star-scattered vastness of space was no longer the view. Instead they saw the remains of London, the cloudy skies with the promise of rain, and what Shepard assumed was a Reaper leg that hadn't been taken away yet.

_Lovely._

"When are they getting rid of that thing?"

"No idea. There's some ground debate on whether those things need to be destroyed or examined in the name of science." Joker shrugged and sat down, activating the GUI chess board game that Traynor had allowed them to borrow. Her, Tali and Garrus were all cooped up in the AI core and in the beginning, he stayed with them, trying to offer support and some minor technical help. Eventually he just felt like he was getting in the way, so Shepard had told him to hang out with her instead.

Definitely better than hanging around the med bay and feeling equally useless.

Neither of them openly spoke about EDI. Joker didn't want to seem manic depressive the entire time and while Shepard wanted to offer some sort of sympathy, she also knew she was only gifted with words when she's telling people what to do and motivating them to fight. Comforting someone because they lost someone dear to them was a skill she never acquired, although she wished someone gave her a crash course in it.

But she was good at offering a distraction, and good at trying to come up with other solutions that could fix the problem. The damn blue box in the AI core went out, and Shepard's hope was that Miranda could somehow work her magic and find her the functioning parts they need. She didn't care where as long as they got it and it was delivered as soon as possible. She'd let Miranda handle the semantics of it all.

"Good to see you moving out and about, though," Joker began while their games started, both sets of eyes focused on the grid as they carefully considered moves. "Commander Shepard: Reaper beam survivor. How does it feel?"

"It feels like broken legs and a wheelchair."

"Could be worse. You could be dead. Again."

Shepard moved a chess piece, half-smiling. "Not sure how the hell I'm _not_ dead, but I'll take it. I doubt Cerberus is held together enough to do more experiments on me."

"Admiral Hackett hound you for a report yet?" Joker moved a piece. Shepard twitched a little.

"On vid comm, yeah. He got delayed in coming back to London for one reason or another." Shepard stuck her tongue out in concentration before making a move. "Suck it, Moreau."

Hackett come clean about knowing about her father. It was actually the reason why he was delayed. He was doing her the favor of keeping the bastard out of her hair – at least until she felt comfortable making a definite decision. Curiosity and guilt poisoned her judgment, though. Curiosity because part of her wanted to know what the fuck her father was up to after all these years, and if he did have any interest in apologizing – not saying that she would necessarily accept it, but an apology for being a prick her entire childhood would be nice to hear. She wasn't going to hold her breath on that one.

Then there was guilt, because Garrus had informed her that somewhere out there, maybe dead, maybe alive, there was a little boy that shared some of her DNA. And according to them, he was missing. Just like thousands and thousands of other people that got caught in the crosshairs of war.

In the end, everyone knew she was going to agree to see him at some point. And if he asked for help, she'd give it. Shepard was sort of a sucker when it came to distress calls. She wasn't above helping people when she was able to – and she wasn't above sacrificing them if it became a necessary evil, either. Most of the time. Right now, they were just waiting for her permission.

Joker rubbed his bearded chin and cocked his head to the side to examine the board. After a minute, he made another move. Shepard cursed under her breath. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm alive, aren't I?" She flashed him a look – a warning to let him know he was stepping on territory she didn't want to talk about. He seemed to have understood because his eyes widened in alarm and he squirmed uncomfortably underneath the burn of her glare.

"If I say check mate, will you run me over with that thing?"

Shepard blinked down at the grid, giving it one last look over before groaning and rolling her eyes. "Goddamnit. I think I need to stick to actual physical battle. Not this shit."

Joker laughed. And it was a genuine laugh; not something forced with a grin that meant nothing. If it had to happen at the expense of her pride, then fine. It was the least she could do. They went through a few more rounds before she called it quits, since it was beginning to take all her strength to stay awake. One thing she hated about this entire predicament – she really didn't feel like herself, and it was becoming a frequent annoyance.

Shepard leaned back against the chair comfortably, staring out the reinforced glass window. Rain began pouring down and flashes of lightning lit up dreary skies. "Never asked, but did they spit on and burn Illusive Man's body when they found him?"

He'd been shutting off the GUI when that question rung his ears. Joker blinked, thought about what she had just asked, and then raised a very confused eyebrow. "Found him?"

"You know. On the Citadel. Where Anderson and I were."

"What?"

"Am I speaking krogan to you or what?" Shepard's brow rose right back at him.

Occurrences in where Joker was speechless were rare. _Extremely _rare. Shepard had to wonder just what about her question made him so baffled that his lips would part, vowels would come out, but it wasn't anything resembling close to a sentence. Finally he cleared his throat with a cough and slowly rose from the couch. "Captain Anderson wasn't found on the Citadel. And…the Illusive Man hasn't been found yet, period."

Now she had to wonder if _he_ was speaking some krogan slang. "Bullshit," she replied and straightened. "He—the Captain died right next to me."

Joker slowly shook his head. His eyes stared at her with caution, like he was afraid anything he said next would make her blow into a mess of instability. "Commander…the Captain was found here. In London. Under rubble. He—he didn't make it to the beam."

She waited for him to laugh. She waited for that mischievous little twinkle in his eyes to fucking sparkle and let her know that he was flinging bullshit at her to keep her on her toes. But when it didn't come, and he looked at her with genuine concern, then Shepard felt her stomach drop. A stubborn knot formed in her throat, not even budging when she swallowed to get rid of the discomfort.

What he said didn't make a lick of fucking sense.

He was _there._ Speaking to her via radio. Guiding her through whatever chasm the beam seemed to have brought her to. And then there was the Illusive Man with his crazed eyes and messed up face and he somehow managed to control her limbs like a puppet, making her shoot a bullet into Anderson. Sure, maybe when she really thought about it, it had been strange that _both_ of them were there and somehow the Illusive Man was so damn far gone he—

"Comm—Commander? Are you-?"

There it was again. That feeling where her throat tightened up and suddenly the entire room felt like she was trapped in air lock, oxygen sucked out and completely depleted and her lungs were screaming for breath. It was like she was dying.

All over again.

"_Shit!"_ Joker cursed and limped to the intercom, slamming his hand down. "Get a doctor to observation! Doctor to observation! _Now!_"

* * *

"Be _very_ specific, Joker. What the hell exactly happened?"

Sure, Garrus was sometimes kind of awkward. Sometimes kind of cheesy. He had his own set of smart little comments when the situation was appropriate. And he often kept his temperament kept well together. Joker knew well that if the situation called for it, he could turn into what he liked to call, a "scary mother fucker."

For example: this very moment.

"Everything was fine at first," Joker explained with a sigh. He had calmed down considerably from his initial freak out, because he honestly didn't know what to do or what the hell was happening. He wasn't a damn medic. He knew how to fly a space ship and he flew it like no other – but seeing her in that state was something different and something he never experienced with anyone else. "We were playing chess. She lost. Made jokes about it. And then she brought up the Illusive Man and the Captain. This is gonna sound kind of messed up, Garrus, but she kept telling me both of them were at the Citadel. _With her._"

That little detail caught his and Dr. Chakwas' attention. They blinked, exchanged glances, and then their attention went over to the slumbering body on the med bay bed.

"The Captain was found here. In London," Dr. Chakwas said.

"I know that. You know that. Everyone _else _knows that. When I told her otherwise, she flipped."

"After everything that's happened," she continued, humming softly in thought as she approached the bed. She opted to lower her voice in concern that hearing them would wake her, and right now the best thing to do was for her to sleep it off. "I've never seen her have a panic attack. Could be she was so wounded when she was there that she hallucinated them."

"And she still hasn't told anyone what the hell happened up there. Not even Hackett himself." Whatever _did_ happen, however, involved some sort of bizarre hallucination. It made sense it was probably from being so severely wounded _and_ conscious at the same time. He always wanted to ask, though, and every time they danced around the topic she directed the conversation elsewhere, making it painfully obvious that she was nowhere near ready to talk about it yet.

Whatever happened had taken a toll. Garrus knew it was only a matter of time and realizing that pained him more than she'd ever know. She was one woman given an impossible task and somehow overcame all odds – but at a price. And no one knew how steep that price was. Not even Shepard herself.

Then the med bay doors opened, and Tali'Zorah came in with what Garrus would describe as a _stomp._ "I think I know why Shepard likes to punch reporters in the face so much."

"Hah. Yeah." Joker smiled fondly. "Good times. Now, uh, what brought this up?"

A sigh echoed from behind her mask. Her arms crossed over her chest and her hips cocked to the side, and Garrus could swear he could see a slight reflection of a scowl. "Some _bosh'tet_ is being broadcast, claiming that the Alliance military is purposefully sabotaging his attempts to get in contact with Shepard. Claims that he's her father, but I don't believe it. Have you seen some of the crazy conspiracy theories that are coming up? And I thought _Cerberus'_ extremity was annoying."

The incredibly loud, growl-like sigh Garrus let out after Tali spoke up caught everyone's attention. He had to refrain from kicking a stool across the med bay – because the timing? Was impeccable right now. Way to pile shit _right_ atop of more shit."That's because Hackett _is_ sabotaging him, because the man _is_ her father."

There was nothing but a synchronized "oh" that came as a response.

"Well. That escalated rather quickly." Joker rubbed the back of his head.


	6. Executions of Bitterness

**Chapter Six: Executions of Bitterness**

_She could wash her hands as much as she wanted. She could scrub them until her flesh went raw and her skin stung. But no amount of cleansing was going to erase all that she's had to do. She was good at dealing with people causing trouble for the gang – she did her job, even if it involved doing it her way. Whatever way it happened, as long as she got it done, they were more than pleased with her._

_Once she cleaned up, she went to the kitchen and opened the fridge, the light clearing some of the darkness. Being involved in the Reds paid off – they had settled nicely in a cheap apartment, and while it wasn't anything extravagant, they had something legitimate to call their home. She grabbed a beer, twisted the cap off with her shirt and chugged it like water._

"_How'd it go?" said a voice from the door frame. The passing years had made it deeper. Honestly, he sounded and looked older than he was. Hardship had toned their bodies with muscle, but hers was fairly lean while his bulked him up and made him look a bit more intimidating. Kind of the opposite for them, because she was the one that resorted to brute force and he was more of a manipulative diplomat. A resourceful intel broker. "Didn't think you'd be back so early."_

"_If it went bad, I'd be here much later." She turned to face him. "Can we talk?"_

_His mouth opened wide to let out a yawn and he bobbed his head tiredly, holding a hand open. "Yeah, sure. Gimme a beer?" She tossed him one and they went to the living room, settling on the couch and turning on a dim lamp situated on the end table. Their place didn't have much – just the bare essentials, all which were fairly cheap or convenient dumpster dives, but as long as it was all functional, they didn't care. "You okay?"_

"_I filled out a job application today."_

_He was about to take a sip from the bottle, but her statement had him pause. "Uh. Why?"_

"_Don't you think it's time we moved on?" She sighed, burrowing into the corner of the couch to nurse her beer. She figured she'd encounter some resistance. "You said we'd do this for awhile. And then when we're better, we get normal jobs like normal people. Don't you think it's—"_

"_You thinking flipping burgers or serving ice cream are going to increase your quality of life?" He didn't seem angered, but he also didn't seem like he took her seriously. His eyes rolled and he gave her a crooked smile. "Anywhere you go, you're going to get a pay cut. You're only sixteen. The only chance you might have is prostitution."_

_He meant it jokingly. She still gave him a rough kick, scowling. "I'm serious!"_

"_So am I." Sort of._

"_Then why the hell don't you apply to places?" She sat up straight with cheeks angrily puffed._

"_Honestly? I don't…mind this." His confession almost sounded guilty. "We never even finished school, you know? And it's not like we have anything else but this to add on our resume. We'll be stuck just like our parents were. What's the point of that? We're good at what we do. And the Reds – we've got a family with them now. Why change that?"_

_He was good with words. Charisma was his gift, and his words were the tools he used to tangle a web of lies and bullshit until someone believed that his words were spoken from god. And he did it all with the warmest of smiles. He might not have been the brute that he looked, and he might not be good with physical situations like she was, but he was a different kind of dangerous._

_He didn't have to touch you to harm you. _

"_Besides, look at you," he began, the corner of his lips tugged into a smirk. Beers set aside, he pushed her back against the couch and crawled over her. His thumb caressed her brow, went down her cheek and brushed against her bottom lip. "You're good at what you do. A helluva woman. And you've got a growing reputation going on. Why change that? You can become something better with the Reds. And you won't be stuck with a shitty job that barely pays minimum wage."_

_He placed a gentle kiss on her nose._

"_And what would I do without my literal partner in crime?"_

_Eventually, she sighed. She couldn't deny that he did make good points. Her biggest fear was becoming so frustrated with her life and ending up like the people she ran away from – her parents. She remembered the look in her mother's eyes when she had gunned her down, and she was convinced that she did the woman her favor. She was a shell of herself, wasted to the bone, who didn't know from up and down anymore._

_She was a mother who couldn't even recognize her own daughter. And who had been ready to kill her._

_She gulped at the memory. Then she nodded._

"_Now get some sleep." His head dip to capture her lips into a kiss and then climbed off her, pulling her back to her feet. "We're sleeping in tomorrow."_

"_I'll meet you there. Not all that tired yet."_

_She watched him leave, stood in the middle of the living room, and she began to wonder. She knew how he worked. Knew how charming and convincing he could be – he had people eating out of his hands like dogs, just like he wanted them._

_What scared her the most was that she was becoming one of them._

* * *

Calibrations in the battery room were typically his favorite way to keep himself distracted. But he knew his pattern had become predictable and he didn't want to make it easy if someone had opted searching for him. The shuttle bay seemed like an ideal place – Cortez was busy fixing up some last minute damages and Vega had been too engrossed in his work out routine to bother him. Sure, their eyes looked over, eyebrows raised questioningly but Garrus had silently gone over to the weapon's bench and worked diligently. Everyone had seen the video and everyone had been witness to the commander's little outburst of wanting to be, and they quoted, "the fuck alone," which apparently also included her turian boyfriend.

She'd been so cold it actually burned, but ever since she woke up drowsily from her panic attack – which, of course, everyone seemed to have known about – she'd been on edge. Extra snappy, extra irritable, and overall very unpleasant. Fortunately his patience was deep when it came to her and he took it. Not because he wanted to, but because he _had_ to. For now.

Garrus knew she would come around. It wasn't often that they had their little disagreements. Usually it the tension fizzled out and there was a lot of make up "sparring" to be had, but the disagreements were often trivial and quickly forgotten. This was different.

Her blood family. Her mental state. It was all personal things that were being aired out. Usually Shepard's issues were never of focus – it was everyone _else_ that had personal problems that they needed help with, and Shepard was always the one called for the duty. Also because most of everyone's personal problems involved guns and killing someone, and she was good at all the above. Now the tables were turned, and whether she liked it or not, she definitely _did_ need some help dealing with these personal issues.

But convincing her of that was probably going to be a challenge. He was prepared for that.

He'd been devoted to a little project for her, since all the weapons she had carried off into battle had been destroyed or lost. He got his hands on some extra models and he'd been modifying them to her taste. Part of him wished she didn't have a need for weapons anymore, but he wasn't naive enough to believe that things were going to be easy even after war. The hard fighting was done – now politics were being thrown around, misinterpreted, debated, and everything else that could give someone the biggest headache in existence.

Having her armed would make her feel better. It would definitely make _him_ feel better, too.

Not everyone had gotten the gist of his desired privacy, because it wasn't long before the elevator doors were opened and out came the sound of heavy armored steps. He didn't even have to look up to know who it was; the alien in question wasn't exactly known for his subtle approaches.

"Saw what happened," Wrex said, standing next to Garrus with arms crossed. His eyes followed the way his talons worked on tinkering an assault rifle. "We should kill him."

"Not entirely sure that would make her feel better, Wrex."

"Worked for me," the krogan rumbled. "Grunt's ripping her out of her cabin."

Garrus paused and looked up from the bench. "What?"

"The damn woman needs from fresh air. We're giving it o her."

"You _do_ know the streets of London aren't exactly paved for the wheel chair she's in, right?" Wheel chair maneuvers were practically impossible with the city's state right now, even with all the progress done. That would be an awfully bumpy ride. Definitely uncomfortable and would contribute to her already foul mood.

"So what? Have you seen her? She's a stick. We can carry her." Wrex was grinning with devious intentions. "We're shooting shit. You're the one with a sniper rifle. Arm up, Vakarian. You're coming."

His mandibles parted in attempt to protest, but there was nothing to really argue about. Wrex brought up a decent means for distraction. And if there's one thing that blew off steam amongst a soldier like her, it was the weight of a gun and her finger on the trigger. He shook his head but ultimately gave in, chuckling. "Sounds like a party."

Wrex gave his shoulder a friendly punch. "_Now_ you're talking."

* * *

It was a sick sense of emotional masochism that prompted Shepard to sit at her terminal and replay the video, over and over.

Time had given him his first set of wrinkles, his first set of sterling silver hair streaked into the mess of black he had unkempt. It astounded her to realize that despite it being her father, he honestly didn't look old enough to be _her_ father – but then she remembered that he'd had her young. Too young. She could pass him off as an older brother and it would still make a plausible story.

It took one problem to distract her from another. Shepard had been insistent on privacy and quarantined herself in her cabin, even keeping Garrus at a distance. He didn't take it well, and it prompted probably the first "official" argument since they established a relationship. But the more she spent in the med bay, the more damaged she felt. Abnormal. Like she needed constant care, that maybe there was something wrong with her in her head.

And fuck, after what happened, maybe there was. Maybe what happened was driving her into the fucking nuthouse.

She could dwell on what happened. She could dwell on memories that she now doubted, dwell on the voices she swore she heard, dwell on the images of people she swore she saw. But right now this damn situation prompted immediate attention. The press was still active, getting as much coverage and information from the post-war condition of the galaxy, and of course that also included your regular conspiracy theorists and ridiculous rumors. Her name had been tossed around liberally and reporters tried to drag her out into the open. They wanted questions answered and detailed descriptions of what happened. They wanted the truth, or what they wanted to hear _as_ truth.

Right now they all questioned her silence. Wondered if she was so cold-hearted that she'd reject her father's pleas for a reunion and help, and especially when it came to searching for this little brother they claimed she had.

It was a mutual agreement that she wasn't ready for it. She didn't think she had a choice right now.

_So much for retirement._

Hackett released a press statement about her condition to please the public. What it entailed, she didn't bother watching. She trusted him enough to figure something out and thanked her damn lucky stars for his lack of questioning. He knew he had enough on her plate.

A ding echoing her metal hall alerted her, and Shepard scowled tiredly. Someone had come up without permission and she was fully prepared to give them a proper reaming. She'd given Traynor specific instructions and –

"Time to get out and shoot shit!" came an excited roar and Shepard blinked.

Two krogans and a turian had entered her cabin. There was a bar joke to be made for that at some point, but right now she was trying to come up with a way to kick them out. She wasn't all that intimidating in her twin wheels of steel, and it was common sight to see Wrex and Grunt armored up because they were _krogans_, but why the hell did Garrus slip back into his armor and why the hell was his rifle attached?

"I want to ask what the fuck is going on," she said, wide eyes blinking multiple times. "But I have a feeling I shouldn't."

"Good answer." Garrus placed his rifle into Grunt's arms and sauntered over to the wheel chair. Shepard tried to glare at him, but she was still perplexed on whatever the hell was going on that she didn't know about. So when he dipped down and scooped her into his arms, she barely found time to properly react. "Don't squirm, dear."

"Okay, I know my legs aren't what they used to be, but I can still use my fists. What the hell are you guys doing to me?"

"Having a party," Grunt stated as a matter of fact and they all squeezed into the elevator.

"Damn. Haven't been in an elevator with you pyjacks in a _long_ time," Wrex said.

"I was thinking the same thing, except when I bring it up, I get told to shut up," Garrus replied and pretended to ignore that glare she was giving him.

Shepard sighed and shut her eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Okay. So. _What's_ this about a party, exactly?"

"War's over. No one's extinct, except maybe the batarians. We're alive. _You're_ alive. We've been working a lot. Consider this an impromptu shore leave. For _everyone._" Adding the last part was crucial – because it _was_ true. Everyone needed to unwind a little, and they had been waiting until she was better to pop open a bottle and celebrate. And he didn't want her to think this was just about recent events. Garrus glanced down to observe her reaction and was pleased when she actually seemed relax. She had this little look of reluctant defeat though, and he kissed her forehead.

Word traveled fast. Once Vega and Cortez were given orders to make arrangements, they dropped what they were doing for preparations. It was a very sudden plan but god_damn_, did they need this. All of them needed this. All of them met outside in an area where ruined buildings provided them enough seating. She wasn't sure where the hell they got it, but Cortez, Vega and Kaidan were the trio lugging around what looked like boxes of bottled alcohol.

It'd been awhile since she saw them gather like this. Not since there little party on the Citadel. Garrus appointed Grunt custody of her, and she was hoisted right onto his armored shoulders for comfort. "You guys said we're shooting shit," she began and glanced down at the young krogan in confusion. "What are we shooting, exactly? Garrus? Is that why he's armored up?"

"Sort of. If I show you up in another little contest again, you might try and put a bullet in me," Garrus quipped. "Every can and bottle emptied we'll recycle for some target practice. So everyone better drink up."

The little get-together wasn't anything large, and it wasn't anything to the hilarity and loudness that happened at the apartment on the Citadel. Certain people weren't present so the group was smaller and there was no music blaring, so it was definitely quieter. Maybe once everything fell back into a more normal routine, there would be a grand get together, but right now people were content with each other's company. A few little bickers broke out, but that was normal for them.

Once Grunt got a little too drunk to carry her securely on his shoulders, he set her on a flat piece of rubble. Tali joined her, jumping up onto it with a small 'hmph.'

"Afraid you'll black out this time?" Shepard asked, referencing to the fact that she hadn't had a sip of a drink yet.

"Very funny," said the quarian as she got comfortable. "Out in the open air like this and not knowing what little germs are on your planet? Even with an emergency induction port, I won't be taking that risk."

"A straw, Tali. It's a _straw_."

Kaidan joined Shepard's opposite side with a familiar bottle in his hand. "Been waiting to drink this baby since you've woken up. Since you got me the same one, figured it's only appropriate." There weren't really any cups to spread around, so they simply passed the bottle to each other. He then paused, his face expressed in a way that revealed he had some sort of revelation and stared at the bottle. "I should have asked – are you on any meds? That you're not supposed to mix with drinks?"

"You ask me that _after_ I've had the equivalent of two shots?"

If her helmet wasn't in the way, Tali would have smacked her forehead. Instead she pressed her palm against the glass and let out a strange mix of a giggle and a sigh. "_Keelah_."

Once enough bottles and cans were emptied, it was Garrus now that had Shepard sitting on his shoulders for the little shoot off. She hadn't gotten the chance to issue a verbal apology to him. She knew she owed it, and she knew he deserved it. He hadn't brought it up and he didn't even act like anything disruptive happened between them.

She sighed and placed her hand against the side of his scarred face.

That was all he needed. He kissed her palm, equipped her with the rifle and then settled his hands on her thighs to make sure she was stable. "Let's see if you remember to shoot a gun."

"That a challenge, Vakarian?"

"You better not _suck_!" Jack yelled, providing her own method of encouragement. She'd been waiting to drink ever since Shepard woke up and she probably overdid it, because she turned, bumped into Liara and spilled her drink all over the asari's white uniform. "Shit! I didn't even—were you always this blue?"

"Yes, Jack. I've always been this blue."

The slight jerk of the rifle once she shot, the sound of glass shattering – she forgot how therapeutic holding a weapon could actually be. Shepard actually felt normal again. Normal for _her_, anyway. Once there were no bottles left, people eventually started filtering out. Wrex and Grunt returned to their krogan brothers, Jack stumbled back to where her students were based and everyone else trickled back inside the Normandy. She could have sworn she saw Vega's arm around Liara at some point, but that could have been the liquor talking.

In the end, Garrus and Shepard were alone. The rifle had been exhausted from ammo but she insisted holding it, and both eyes stared up to the blanket of darkness and stars that was the Earthen sky.

"Feeling any better?"

"Better, but not any less crazy."

"Shepard—"

"We'll talk about the crazy part when I sort shit out," she interrupted. Her tone carried a familiar authority she used commanding missions, and while the mission part was currently on _hiatus_, he immediately silenced himself. Pushing further would only make her more irate, and she had just finally loosened up. He wasn't prepared to take that from her just yet. "Debating on whether assisting my sperm donor is the right choice, though."

She watched his crested head tilt to the side, a thoughtful hum singing from his throat as he processed the scenario. "If it makes it easier, it's not him you're helping out."

Shepard heaved a sigh. She knew exactly what he was alluding to and he was also exactly _right._ If what he said was true – and according to Liara, it was – there was a little human out there who shared the same blood she did. _Little brother_ and _big sister_ were two titles too foreign for her to even fathom. Being an only child was how she always looked at life. Being a single child carried no baggage.

And suddenly, just like that, she had baggage. Whether she liked it or not.

"Better get used to dealing with your own problems now, Shepard, instead of everyone else's." His legs took them back into the Normandy. Luckily the frames were so high that resting on his shoulders wasn't a problem. "Then maybe after this, we can finally retire."


End file.
